They met up and went to this little French place. Stella wore a short teal shoulder-less cocktail dress. Her hair was tied up with strands dangling do...n the back of her neck. Stella’s long bare legs stretched down to a dainty pair of black high heel mules; they had the smallest strap going across. She couldn’t have more of her feet on display without being barefoot. She had a toe-ring on her right foot and an anklet on her left leg. The waiter escorted her to their table. Her feet were slapping. “Erm, just a minute,” I called. Frantically, trying to work out how I was going to shield my enormous rod. Quite frankly, a fluffy white towel just didn’t really do the trick. “So sorry to disturb you. I will be real quick. You can even turn away,” she whispered through the door. I didn’t need time to consider it. Without hesitation I unlocked the door and jumped back into the cubicle, facing the wall. “Goodness, you lot are worse than my daughter,” I laughed, attempting to hide my stonking. More

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